Dislcaimer: I do not own Sleepy Hollow or anything vaguely related to it. This is only my own what-if imagining.

Ichabod Crane rapped on the door to the small room situated off the sanctuary. "Lieutenant? We cannot proceed with the events of this day without your presence." He paused. Silence. "I will allow, however, that in my day, there were such things as closet marriages. The bride would closet herself in an adjacent room from the rest of the wedding party. She would be naked," he added, "which in modern parlance would mean she wore naught but her shift. She would extend her hand through the slightly opened door to receive her ring."

"Sounds pretty good right about now." Even strained, Abbie's voice was a balm to his soul. "I'd ask if we could do one of those, but I'm pretty sure I don't have a shift."

"Neither do you have an impoverished late husband, which was also a requirement. The point of such a ceremony was that the widow's debt would not be transferred to her new husband, as she came to him with literally nothing." He paused. "Do you have debts of which I am not aware?"

"You've seen my Visa bill."

Indeed he had, though this was not a time to discuss the merits of frugality. "That would be a debt of which I am aware. In either case, I doubt that finances are the reason you linger. Have you changed your mind? Do you no longer wish to marry me? Do you," his voice caught, "no longer love me?"

Her "No" was both instant and adamant. "Before you ask, that's no, I have not changed my mind, not no, I do not want to marry you or no, I do not love you. You do have to admit there were a lot of no's in that question."

The correction was on the tip of his tongue before he could call it back. "Those questions, as I posed several." He let out a sigh of relief. "I am heartened to hear that you desire me still. Shall we proceed, in that case? Our guests are waiting. A quadruple negative is hardly the most challenging foe you have faced recently. If there is anything you require, I will be most glad to retrieve it for you. Diet Coke? Hairpins? Something of a feminine need?"

Abbie's laugh came rough but quick. "No. Nothing like that." Then he heard only silence, and within it, the soft sound of her hand laying against the other side of the door. "Tell me a story. Were you nervous at your wedding with Katrina?"

Crane answered with a short huff. "I find it highly improper to speak of the day I married my late wife immediately prior to marrying my betrothed."

"If you don't tell me," she said in her gravest tone, "I am going to change all of your passwords to rap lyrics you will never, ever guess if you live another two hundred years." The click of metal against wood – his phone set down, he imagined, on a table- and his own away message played.

Crane swallowed. "Well. Since I cannot doubt the sincerity of your threat, I should mention that, since Katrina was a Quaker, we did not have a wedding ceremony as such. We waited for an appropriate pause during the meeting, then stood together and announced our intent. There were no objections, although now I can think of several, so we and all present signed the appropriate documents. The wait for such a pause did seem interminable, as does this wait."

This time, Abbie's laugh came soft and intimate. "That's my Crane."

"I am ever your Crane, but if you wish my devotion to be legally recognized by the State of New York, you will be required to emerge from the chamber in which you are presently ensconced."

There was a pause. "I know that. It's not that. It's this. All of this."

Crane's brow creased in concentration. "I see. If you are attempting to encompass the enormity of our wedding or the institution of marriage with an expansive gesture, I am unable to see it through solid wood."

"How did you know that?

"Because I know you. Because I love you. If your prior question did not refer specifically to my wedding to Katrina, but instead questioned whether bridal nerves were universal, then the answer is yes. The married state is not a game or diversion but a sacred vow worthy of serious contemplation." He took in a deep breath. Were the door's hinges on the outside, he might remove the door entirely. They were not. "I, too, have had doubts. Not of your love, but my own ability. I am still a stranger in your world. On some level, I will always remain as such, but I would rather be a stranger at your side than attempt to live once again in my own time by myself. There can be no time or place I can ever call home but the one that I share with you."

Silence.

"Lieutenant?"

More silence.

"Do you require assistance?" He tried the cut-glass doorknob. It did not move. "Should you require more time to be sure of your heart? If the trappings of the day overwhelm you, as they do me, we can arrange to have a more intimate ceremony at a later date. How far is the journey to Las Vegas?"

Abbie snorted. "Trust me, you would not like Vegas."

"I would harbor a deep fondness for any place where we were united in marriage. The time and the place do not matter. Only that I am married to you."

"If we were going to elope, Atlantic City is much closer."

"Atlantic City, then. I will inform the others."

There was the click of a latch, the door opening only enough for one brown eye to regard him with stern determination. "Ichabod Crane, if you think you are going to deprive me of my walk down that aisle in a Pnina Torne mermaid gown that cost more than my first car, you are sadly mistaken." The door clicked shut again.

"A mermaid's gown? Are you wearing a swimming costume? Mermaids have no feet. How can you walk if you cannot use your feet?"

She let out a breath, then, "Crane?"

"Yes?"

"I will see you at the altar."

"In Atlantic City?"

"No. Here."

The tightness about his shoulders lessened. "We will be married today?"

"Today and tonight and the rest of our lives, but not if you don't get back in that sanctuary where you belong."

Crane blinked. "But I came to convince you to come out. Miss Jenny said you asked for me to do so."

"I did, and I am coming out, but not with you blocking the door."

"I do not understand."

Her breath came in an impatient huff. "I don't need you to understand. I need you to go back up that aisle, stand next to Captain Irving and wait for the love of your life to rock your world."

"What does that mean, to rock my world?"

"Just go."

As he could hear her scowl, he knew she could hear his bow. "Madam, I am ever your humble and obedient servant."

"You remember that."

"I assure you that I will." With that, he turned, his long, determined strides carrying him through the double doors that led to a sanctuary unchanged from his own time. He would wait for her here, he told himself, a minute or an hour or a century, and nodded at Captain Irving before reclaiming his post before the altar.

Captain Irving leaned in close to whisper. "What did you say to her?"

The organ music sounded, deep and rich and resonant, echoing off the stone walls as the congregation rose to their feet. The doors swung open, framing the Lieutenant –no, framing Abbie, his Abbie- clad in a white gown that conformed to her person, a filmy veil floating around her. Rock his world, indeed. He understood now.

"It would seem the right thing,"

The real adventure was about to begin.